I’m reading these stupid books and I’m so furious. Rhaegar Targaryen. Can we talk about Rhaegar Targaryen?!
Rhaegar is this big dumb question mark that every bitter fuck in Westeros hangs their hopes and failures on. All these dumb middle aged men gotta talk about Rhaegar all the goddamn time. He inspires all this creepy obsession, like hatred and love and and lust and it grosses me out.
Yet I’m sitting here making fun of these people, all the while I can feel myself becoming obsessed. I’ve been sucked in. Like who is this fucker? I need to know!!! He’s the best character in all the fucking books and I hate him I think? Or I’m in love? I feel like I’m going crazy here. Who the fuck is he??? He’s Schrodinger’s Dragon, simultaneously both Hero and Villain. Angel and devil. Genius and stupid impulsive dumbshit. But the box he’s in is sealed shut and burned to ash and the ashes have been tossed in a rocket and shot to Pluto cause that secretive harp strumming dragon shit is dead as a goddamn doornail. Grrrr Martin is the only goddamn person in the whole fucking world who knows what his deal was and he ain’t gonna sing, so now I’m sitting here, flipping through these dumb books looking for anything that doesn’t sound like bullshit just like–
“–let’s talk about the Rhaegar. Can we talk about Rhaegar, please? I’ve been dying to talk about Rhaegar with you all day, OK?
This name keeps coming up, Rhaegar Targaryen! Rhaegar Targaryen! I got BOXES full of Rhaegar!”
Mac, this office is a goddamn ghost town